


Your Father Would Be Proud

by ialpiriel



Series: Sad Baby LW [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, Gen, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i just????? really love Star Paladin Cross. Stand-in cyborg mom. I like to imagine her offering comfort to a small sad lone wanderer after all this shit's over. Lone wanderer deserves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Father Would Be Proud

**Author's Note:**

> LW's name is actually 'Alexandra' but what a mouthful for such a short drabble. and who goes by their full name anyway?

“M sorry,” Alex whispers. She’s curled up on the bare mattress in the upper room of the house in Megaton, a metal bucket next to her on the floor. She’s shaking bad, and clutching at the blanket she has clamped between her knees. “M sorry I’m not–not–not better.” The whimper turns into one hitching sob, which immediately turns into a gag, and that explains the bucket.

Cross waits until she’s finished, and takes a bottle of purified water off the desk as she comes to sit on the edge of the bed. She’s shed the power armor for leggings and a tank top, her scars tracing geometry over her skin. She doesn’t mind showing them here. Not lie kin the Citadel ,where the initiates still give her uncomfortable looks.

“Water,” Cross says, uncapping the bottle and holding it to Alex’s face. Alex takes it, but she’s too shaky and weak to have a good grip on it. Cross rethinks her decision, and pulls the bottle away, setting it on the floor next to the bucket. “Sit up, first. You’ll be able to swallow better.”

“If I don’t puke it right back up,” Alex mutters. Cross snorts, gets her arm under Alex’s arms, helps her sit up. Alex wobbles, but she manages to plant her feet on either side of the bucket so she can lean over it, bent double. Her hair is damp, and Cross smooths it back as best she can. A bandanna would be better, to hold back the damp, tightening curls, but that’s later. Once she’s drunk something, kept something–anything–down for more than an hour.

“Try again,” Cross says, and bends to pick up the bottle of water again. Alex takes it, wrapping both her hands around it so she can lift it to her mouth.

The first swig, she swishes around her mouth before spitting it into the bucket. The second one she actually swallows, and then she sets the bottle on the edge of the desk.

“M sorry you have to babysit me while I, uh.” Alex can’t say it yet, refuses to call it the withdrawal it is. That’s alright. She’ll grow into it yet. “I’m sorry I’m not–I don’t have my shit together. Sorry I’m such a wreck, I just–” and she’s still trying to justify it, somehow, like Cross asked for a justification or her reasons aren’t obvious.

Cross rubs Alex’s back between her shoulder blades.

“Your father would still be proud of you,” she says, as if saying it again can maybe drive that point home.


End file.
